Drops of Gold
by Marauder-In-Disguise
Summary: "Words are mere bubbles of water; deeds are drops of gold" Tibetan proverb


**A/N This was originally a birthday gift for my best fanfic friend, sophiedoodle. She gave me the line **"I wonder what would happen if I showed up in engineering like this?" **and I let my imagination take off. She's been very nice and said that you could all share her birthday present, so play nice.**

**Disclaimer – If I owned it, there would have been a very different ending.**

_**Words are mere bubbles of water; deeds are drops of gold**_

_Tibetan proverb_

"I don't know, captain," Chakotay furrowed his brow and tried desperately to look unafraid, "Does it have to be me?"

"Well, I'm not ordering you, if that's what you mean," Kathryn smiled, placing a hand on his forearm, "It's just that you were the first person I thought of."

"I think it sounds kind of fun," Tom interjected from his place at the helm, swivelling to face the two of them, "It's certainly something I've never done before."

Fully aware that he was clutching at straws, but going straight ahead and clutching nonetheless, Chakotay gestured to Tom, "Why don't you ask Tom, captain? He's more-"

"He's not right, Chakotay. It has to be someone with something unusual about them. Not just a –" She paused, searching her mind for just the right words to bruise Tom's ego a little but not leave him so damaged that B'Elanna would never forgive her.

"Not just a-"

"An Average Joe?" Tom piped up helpfully, a mock hurt look on his face, "I'll try not to take that personally, captain."

From her chair she heard a little snort of laughter that was Harry Kim pretending to work diligently but really listening in to everything being said. The conversation had meant to be private, but with such a dull shift, her younger officers were desperate for some entertainment and she didn't mind too much; Harry and Tom were always useful in an argument, particularly against her first officer. Chakotay was almost backed into the corner and she wasn't about to lose. He tried one last line of defence, knowing deep down that she had already won. She always did.

"But captain, I've only got the tattoo. That's not so unusual. Tuvok's ears are far more interesting as a-"

"I must point out, captain, that I am scheduled to take the gamma shift tonight. I will not be available for recreational activities."

If he didn't know him better, Chakotay could have sworn that he heard a note of amusement in the Vulcan's voice that almost mirrored that of the captain herself. He caught Tuvok's eye and met only the impassive look of someone who knows fully well that they have just signed your death warrant and is actually secretly pleased with themselves. Sighing heavily, he looked back at the captain. There was no point in arguing, not when even Tuvok had joined the side that was beating him into submission. To her credit, she was at least trying to turn her triumphant smile into a look of gratification. Trying, but failing miserably.

"Thank you, Chakotay. Holodeck two, 1900?"

"Yes."

"Congratulations. You're my very first live model!"

For the remaining half an hour of the shift, Chakotay sat miserably in his chair, ignoring the banter that was being batted around the bridge. He usually loved the end of a shift, especially on quiet days, when the volume would raise just a tad and the whole shift would be involved in some sort of conversation. Today, they were discussing art, of course but most of it passed him by. He even pretended not to notice when her eyes flickered in his direction, probably wondering why he wasn't taking part in the discussion. All he could think about was that she had talked him into sitting and being painted, and all because he had a tattoo on his forehead. He rubbed angrily at the offending article, as though he could wipe it off and escape the torture. It wasn't even that he minded being stared at, because he'd started to feel less awkward with eyes resting on him for an extended period of time. The trouble was that they would be _her_ eyes; she'd be staring at him for hours, with those eyes that he sometimes felt could see right into his mind and root around in all the dark corners. Eyes that still caught him off guard, even after all the times he'd seen them. Eyes that never failed to make him squirm.

He sighed heavily and rested his head in his hands. It was going to be a long night.

A very long night.

Chakotay stood awkwardly outside the holodeck, praying silently for a Borg cube or a Hirogen hunting vessel to make a sudden appearance and be too much for Tuvok to handle. The odds, he knew, were slim, especially with the worrying amount of competence that Tuvok tended to display, but there was always a chance. Something could happen to get him away from her.

Very few people passed him as he stood; those who did were on the gamma shift and shot him knowing glances as they went by. They all knew what he was waiting for, despite the fact most of them had been sleeping all day. It was perturbing, he noted distractedly, just how quickly idle chat and speculation spread on _Voyager_. If there was a way of turning rumours into energy, Tom Paris and his team of gossip mongers could, given half a chance, provide enough power to have the ship home within a month. A week, if the command team locked themselves in the captain's quarters with a bottle of champagne and a bowl of strawberries. Despite of himself, Chakotay smiled; not only would such a situation have obvious benefits for himself and the captain, the crew would get home and Tuvok might have a nervous breakdown in the process. That was a cheering thought.

But then he heard her bowling up the corridor and his momentary cheerful thought packed a bag and waved goodbye. Kathryn's voice tended to carry even when she was talking quietly, and he could clearly hear her now. She sounded happy, jovial even, and his heart beat just a tad quicker; at least she was happy, even if he felt like crawling into a hole and dying quietly. It wasn't that she being happy was such a rarity, because she tended to make the effort, but it was all too often that he alone could tell her smile was pasted on for the good of the general mood. Those were the worst days, when he would anxiously lie in bed after failing to tempt her with dinner or a walk on the holodeck, listening to her toss and turn and know that she wouldn't get any sleep. He'd lost track of the number of those nights, staying awake with her, willing her to sleep because he knew that if she didn't there would be migraines and more damned coffee and sharp words that she didn't mean to say. Kathryn was only the other side of the wall but in truth, she may as well have been at home. Home was a semi-mythical place where he knew that he could go to her during the worst nights and hold her until she fell asleep in his arms. He tried to buoy himself with the thought that although he was helpless and unable to do so much that he wanted to do for her, she was about to share a treasured holodeck programme with him. She'd said that he was the first person she thought of. That would have to be enough for him now.

It was, therefore, a genuine smile that he shot her as she came around the corner, dressed simply in a light, loose summer dress that she occasionally wore to one of Neelix's gatherings. Whoever she had been talking to had disappeared and they were alone in the corridor.

"Chakotay," she smirked, "I'm surprised to see you here."

"Why?"

"Don't give me that. You think that I didn't notice the look on your face when I asked you to do this with me? I thought you'd weasel out."

"Kathryn," he shook his head, "How could you think such a thing of me?"

"Are you kidding?" she laughed, pressing a hand to his shoulder as she drew close enough to reach out to him, "I've seen some of your techniques for getting out of appointments with the Doctor. You're the master of escape."

"Ah, but that's different," he took her arm and led her through the waiting doors into the bustling hubbub of Master DaVinci's workshop.

"How so?"

"The Doctor doesn't just want to look like, say, an art student painting her first live model. He wants to prod as well."

"A fair point," she nodded, pulling suddenly on his arm and sitting him down in a chair by the large window, "And I guess a run in with the Borg does constitute a good excuse for missing a check up."

"Does that mean it's viable here, too?"

"Afraid not. Tuvok has been briefed and will not call either of us unless Borg have actually invaded the ship and preferably then not until they are in the lift heading for the bridge."

"Ah. So no chance of escape at all then?" he asked, watching as she bustled around collecting paints and water and brushes. Her movements were erratic, clumsy even, but he put that down to a long day and the need for a coffee fix.

"No. As our favourite collective would say," she raised an eyebrow, levelling a paintbrush directly between his eyes, "Resistance is futile."

"Katarina, may I look now?"

Master DaVinci had been waiting eagerly to see what she had managed, keen to offer his pupil encouragement, but as soon as he had got close enough to see her efforts, Kathryn had batted him gently away. Each time he'd stalked away to his own workbench, sitting as though he was about to take up a pen or a brush himself but in reality doing no such thing. Katarina was acting differently and he suspected it was all to do with the exotic looking man she had brought along to paint. DaVinci had offered her one of his own models but her face had lit up in a subtle smile when she said that there was someone of her own she would prefer to bring. She believed that he hadn't noticed the way her voice changed when she talked about Chakotay, her best friend. He'd not mentioned it, refusing to draw attention to a matter that she was obviously uncomfortable with, but as soon as the two of them had walked through the door, DaVinci hadn't been able to stop himself watching them. He didn't doubt that they were close and even accepted that they were best friends, but the way that they seemed to dance around one another betrayed again the something more that a less worldly man would probably have missed. But DaVinci was old, and despite what Katarina seemed to think, he was not stupid; he had been in love a few times, sometimes desperately so, and so he would wait patiently for the day that Katarina decided to confide in him.

Kathryn glanced up into the knowing eyes of her teacher and finally nodded, allowing him to see for the first time. She waited nervously as his eyes travelled over the canvas, sometimes flickering to Chakotay's face as though to clarify a detail in his own mind. For his own part, Chakotay sat as still as when she had been working, although she couldn't tell if that was from awkwardness at DaVinci's scrutiny rather than anything else. DaVinci breathed in once, heavily and through his nose. Her heart skipped; he'd made a judgement.

"I think that it is a strong attempt, Katarina, and commendable as your first effort. It will be very good once you have finished."

"Thank you –"

"However," he held up a hand, "I do not think you have been observing as closely as you have been taught."

"How so?"

DaVinci took a step towards the canvas, gesturing to illustrate his points, "The detail on the face is almost perfect, as well as you can be expected to capture it, but the shadow that should be falling here is not in the right place or of the correct hue. Do you understand?"

"I think so," she inclined her head to one side, "I don't see how I would have missed something so obvious."

"I do," DaVinci smiled, finding the perfect way in to discovering the exact details of their relationship, "I find that when an artist is infatuated with her subject, she often can remember enough of the face to not have to look so often at the subject. That is how much of the other detail can be lost; in the mind of the artist, she knows the subject so well that further observation is pointless."

The reaction of both to that statement was enough to occupy DaVinci's thoughts for a long while afterwards. Katarina froze, her head still at the awkward angle. She stared openly at him, unable apparently to say anything. The exotic man, Chakotay, ducked his head, blushing furiously. When the silence became uncomfortable, DaVinci spoke again, "I apologise, Katarina. I appear to have made you feel awkward. It was not my intent. I just assumed-"

"Chakotay and I are very good friends," she said in a rush, "That's all."

The exotic man still didn't speak and, despite himself, DaVinci felt vaguely guilty for having actively tried to force a confession from his pupil, "What do you mean, that is all? Friendship is an essential part of life. Why, without it we-"

"Computer, delete character."

With a flash, DaVinci disappeared and they were alone.

There was a beat of silence, during which neither of them dared to look at the other. They'd long ago deleted the other holographic characters and changed the time of day setting to night, so the authentic 'street noises' from outside had also died down. As Kathryn searched for something to say, to apologise for DaVinci, she became vaguely aware of a muffled, breathy sound. She looked sharply at Chakotay and was only half surprised to see that he was trying not to laugh, to the extent that tears had formed in his eyes. In startled fascination she watched as he gave up trying to suppress the sound, threw his head back and roared with laughter. An irresistible smile began to tug at the corners of her own mouth and, soon enough, she had joined him. She was dimly aware that if the Doctor had walked in right then, he would have tried to section them both but she didn't care. It had been so long since they had laughed together, and it felt fantastic.

Chakotay stopped first, fighting for a breath to ease the wonderfully exquisite pain in his stomach and took in the view of Kathryn letting go, just for once. At some point she must have accidentally put her hand in the paint, because she had a rather lovely, and very sizeable, smear of dark blue paint across her face and dress. She looked like _his _Kathryn right then, who'd spent all day covered in dirt on New Earth or who leapt fully clothed into Lake George just because he'd dared her that she wouldn't. This Kathryn was such a rarity that she was worth the dull feeling he always got in his stomach for days afterwards, the vague notion that he would never be able to keep that Kathryn whilst they were still on _Voyager. _

"Kathryn, why were you laughing?" he smiled, enjoying the rosy glow that her cheeks had taken on.

"I-" she stopped, as though the thought hadn't occurred to her, "I suppose because you were laughing. Why were you laughing?"

"Isn't is obvious?"

"No."

He stood up and moved closer, sitting on the edge of the workbench. She didn't recall offering him her hand but he was holding it nonetheless.

"Kathryn, even our holograms are conspiring. It's just so-"

"Ridiculous?"

"Exactly."

Their eyes met briefly and she noticed that the holographic night sky was reflecting in the dark pools that settled on her face. She could count precisely four stars and a small sliver of the full moon. Trying to distract herself, trying to forget the last time they had laid under a real night sky and counted the stars, she murmured, "Well you know what they say about DaVinci. He was a hopeless romantic, far too ahead of his time and-"

"Kathryn, don't give me that. You know what I meant."

"I know."

The admission was enough to convince Chakotay that what his head was telling him to do was right. He leaned forwards and kissed her, almost chastely. She stiffened, but her grip on his hand increased and she didn't pull away. At least, not at first. The moment he felt her start to waver, he pulled away first. She breathed deeply and then opened her eyes.

She didn't let go of his hand.

"Chakotay," her voice was surprisingly strong, "I can't-"

"I know, Kathryn."

"What?"

"I know," he whispered in her ear, "Just don't forget. Please."

The last word was almost a plea and it was the only word he'd said all night that sounded like it came from a soul asking for more than the friendship she could offer.

It was all he needed to say. He'd shown her the rest.

With a sigh he stood and gazed at the abandoned painting. She'd just started to fill in some of the colour around his hairline and tattoo, but the rough drawing she'd completed underneath was really rather good.

"You have a real talent, Kathryn. I'm very impressed."

"It needs work," she wrinkled her nose, "It could get better."

"Do I really look like that when I'm posing?"

"Yes."

"Spirits. What do I look like?"

"Hmm," she grinned mischievously, "I tried to be as flattering as I could but there was only so much I could do. You have to work with what you're given."

He smirked and picked up a brush, "You'll pay for that."

The spat of green paint landed on her nose. With a gasp of laughter, she picked up her own brush and, poised to flick him with more of the blue, she was stopped by the beep of the comm system.

"Captain, I apologise for the interruption but Mister Carey has reported a serious problem that requires the attention of both yourself and Lieutenant Torres."

She sighed and put the brush down, "It's not exactly Borg in the turbolift, is it Tuvok?"

"I am afraid not, Captain but it is urgent nonetheless."

"Alright, Tuvok, I'll be right there."

"Duty calls," Chakotay grimaced, carefully covering the painting, "Let's hope it's not another problem with the gel packs. I don't think B'Elanna's heart could take the strain."

"Or mine," she agreed, taking a final, distracted look around the workshop. The command she gave to end the programme was so curt that Chakotay feared for a moment that she'd already started to piece the wall back together. Her hand, warm on his face, was enough to remedy that fear.

"Thank you, Chakotay."

"What-"

"You know what. Just thank you."

She squeezed his arm and turned in the direction of the turbolift. He chuckled, contemplating allowing her to go and damn the consequences but in the end duty made him call out, "Kathryn?"

"Yes?"

He gestured to the paint covering her face and clothing. A wicked grin spread over her face, "I wonder what would happen if I showed up in engineering like this?"

"I think Tom Paris might suddenly have a lot to talk about."

"You're right. You better go and stall them while I get cleaned up."

"For you, anything."


End file.
